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“It’s worth it.” I licked my lips. “I-I know you won’t be able to meet him, and I also know you won’t be able to come to the wedding. It’s okay, Dad.”
He gritted his teeth. “It’s anything but okay, Aoife. Dammit to hell.”
“You have goals.” I didn’t say it to piss him off or to hurt him. If anything, I told him to reaffirm the fact I was okay with it. “The White House needs you, Dad. I’m not about to get in the way of that.”
His jaw flexed. “What kind of father am I where I can’t even walk you down the aisle?”
I shrugged. “It’s only going to be a small affair.”
“You’re Catholic,” he countered. “Catholics don’t do small. Is the groom Catholic, too?”
There was a hoarseness to his tone that told me my words were hitting home—his daughter was going to get married, and he couldn’t have anything to do with it. To be honest, I was touched. I hadn’t been sure what his reaction would be, and it warmed me that he was disappointed he couldn’t be there.
“He’s more devout than I am,” I told him honestly. “But we’re getting married too quickly for it to be too big of a deal.”
He frowned. “Are you pregnant?”
I snorted. “Nope.”
“Then what’s the rush?”
“The time’s right.” I shrugged. “I want to be with him, Dad. I moved in with him this week, and–”
“You moved in with him?” Unsure why that was what had him shouting, I watched as he ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know his name, Aoife.”
“Finn, Dad. His name’s Finn.” As far as I was aware, a quick Google of his name would reap only legitimate results.
Until he’d announced his affiliation, I hadn’t heard of Finn O’Grady for years. Not since Fiona had died.
Considering the neighborhood’s size, it was a wonder the news hadn’t spread, but then, if the Five Points didn’t want someone to know something, they would be ruthless in keeping it quiet. . . .
I just wondered what the hell had happened to make Finn disappear, and what would prompt Aidan to help him cover it up.
Still, that was a worry for another time.
“Finn. God, he’s Irish, too?”
“That surprises you with my circle?” I grinned at him. “Everyone’s Irish in my neighborhood.”
He grunted. “True. What does he do?”
“Flips properties.”
“There’s money to be had in that. Does he expect you to quit your work?”
I cleared my throat. “No, but you remember I told you about that company that was looking to knock down my building? They came in with a better deal for me a few weeks ago. I accepted.”
I hadn’t told him any of this the last time we met. My head had been in the clouds and I hadn’t wanted to focus on what Finn had done to me—professionally and personally—which meant this was the first time he was hearing any of this.
“You did?” His eyes widened. “Christ, is it only three weeks since we last met?”
“Yep. Things are happening quickly, I guess. I sold up and am going to put in an offer on another building a few streets away. It’s bigger, and I’m not going to do the teashop side of things. Just focus on baking.”
He nodded. “That makes sense. You never liked that part of the business anyway. Your heart was in the kitchen.”
I smiled, touched that he knew that. “Yeah. So, it was a wrench to sign it away, but I knew it was a good move.”
“When are you opening the bakery? Do you need any extra capital?”
